


i'll take just one lifetime

by severian



Category: Sayonara Zetsubou-Sensei
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Masturbation, Strangulation, Suicide, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severian/pseuds/severian
Summary: Nozomu never thought about his past romances for too long before turning his mind back to the one that had always kept him 2 foot off his toes.





	

Nozomu had learnt years ago that his relationship with death was a little complicated. From a young age he'd courted it almost as a childhood sweetheart; the kind of thing you always knew would end in nothing good, but it would happen regardless. That was just the way it was. He'd found love not in holding hands in the school courtyards, but rather in unmeasured doses of sleeping pills and haphazard loops fraying at the seams. It wasn't pretty, but oddly enough he'd seemed content regardless. Well, as long as you ignored the constant suicide attempts, anyway.

That isn't to say he hadn't tried to find passion elsewhere. He'd tried dating, as were the demands of society and the pestering of his family. A girlfriend, before the swift realisation that his interest in women was as non-existent as his future students would fear. It was a waste of both his and her time. A couple of boyfriends whom he had been attracted to, but they had always been far too gentle, too loving – they were the type of 'dangerous' person he simply couldn't let himself become too close to, and so he had slipped from their lives while he was still alive for the chance. Yet again, staying would ultimately have wasted their time. He still thought of the men on occasion though, when his cock lay heavy against his hand, and he'd remember just how helpless he could feel when they'd caress him with their tongues. His breath would hitch whenever they drew away for even a lingering second, and he longed for that heady feeling the momentary lack of oxygen would give him. They never kept him needing for long, and though he'd climax there'd always be something there that felt like not enough. 

He never thought about his past romances for too long before turning his mind back to the one that had always kept him 2 foot off his toes. He never quite knew how things would turn out, and that only ever added to the experience.

The scene, as always, was perfectly set up just in case things went too far and he were to be discovered swinging from the rafters; the empty pill case upon his desk pinning down the (heavily recycled) suicide note, blood-stained bandages filling the rubbish bin and that unmistakable stench of despair that seemed to linger upon his clothes no matter how diligently he washed them. No, he didn't want a single person to get the wrong idea about what he had been doing. Even if he would be found with his clothes neatly folded upon his bed, his dick laying swollen between his fingers, and unsavoury stains unfitting of his traditional furniture.

Nozomu stepped up onto the stool, resting his chin against the rope with a little effort, his fingers idly toying with the tight knot as though ensuring that it would withhold him. Coaxing his already-hard cock idly, he stepped from the stool into nothingness, his body lurching as he began to gently swing from the ceiling like a nightmarish chandelier, nudging the stool out of the way as his feet dangled from the floor. He had started off his escapades gently at first, his feet still firmly planted upon the ground, his neck just slightly tugged by loose rope that seemed to tighten with every eager movement as he touched himself. With each session he'd been a little rougher upon his body, working up until he could withstand the ever-increasing highs - he could, with much effort, keep himself in hypoaxic state long enough to orgasm before succumbing to unconsciousness. Toes touching the floor was simply no longer an option if he wanted to actually get off, and his masturbatory sessions had certainly come to resemble his frequent suicide attempts in all but his nakedness; were anyone to see through his hakama, they'd see that at least one part of him was solid, if not his state of mind.

The first 30 seconds, he had found, were oddly relaxing. Though he could feel his breath slowly becoming shallow deep within his throat, he had the time before his control started to waver to really enjoy the feeling of rope against his skin, and the ways in which it would tighten against his neck with every movement. His hand began to move up and down his shaft, and though his moans were soft, they were anything but in the silence of the room. The faster he began to jerk himself, the more suffocating the noose began to feel around his neck; in fact, everything seemed like he was feeling it all too acutely, like the absence of ground beneath his feet. Attempting to draw a deep breath was impossible now, regardless of how much his brain needed it. God, did he ever need it.

Nozomu's moans grew louder still as the room reeled around him, vision blurred though his glasses remained tentatively perched on the end of his nose. Whether he was beginning to suffer from the oxygen loss, or whether he was spinning in mid-air remained a mystery – it was getting impossible to focus on anything but just how hard it was to breathe, and he could feel himself slipping under. Not yet. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand loosening from around his cock. Breathe. He was getting closer now, to both orgasm and death – he was determined not to die a moment too soon before he got what he needed. Breathe. 

Whimpering slightly as he took himself in hand again, he felt satisfied his moment of reprieve would be enough to at least keep him alive until he came. As long as he did it quickly. And so he pulled harder than any of his milquetoast boyfriends ever had, rough enough for it to hurt, though the pain was nothing compared to the angry welts forming against his neck. Thrashing with pleasure and completely having abandoned all self-control, he wasted what little oxygen he had left begging in desperate gasps; to whom, not even he knew. It was intense, all too intense, and he trembled as he touched himself right to the brink. He brought a hand to his neck and wrapped his fingers around, pushing against the noose, stroking the tip of his dick gracelessly as he came against his palm. Usually a noisy climaxer, it was all he could do to rasp out a long-drawn breath, mouth gaping open for some air that he just couldn't get any more. His hands fell limply to the side of his swinging body, and he fell for death yet again.

'If this is the afterlife', Nozomu thought to himself the next morning, on his hands and knees delicately trying to clean the cum that had dripped from his fingers off his tatami mat, 'maybe I won't bother dying next time.'

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything for years, and this is the thing i come back with. i wholeheartedly apologise.
> 
> title taken from box car racer's 'letters to god'


End file.
